


hope your heart is strong enough

by suspendrs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Autumn, Implied Sexual Content, Louis' family is American, M/M, Thanksgiving, a little bit of, because i cant help myself really, harry is british, its all just v cute idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:20:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendrs/pseuds/suspendrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Set in the US, Harry spends Thanksgiving with Louis' family, or vice versa. Chaos ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hope your heart is strong enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stylinsoncity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylinsoncity/gifts).



> i accidentally posted this a while ago and then panicked and deleted it like a day later, so if you feel like you've read this before, you probably have. hope you enjoy!

Harry’s been in America about long enough now that he really considers it his home but, having been born a Brit, there are some things he feels he just can’t do. The Fourth of July, for one, seems a bit sacrilegious, for obvious reasons. He even finds excuses to stay in on days like President’s Day, because Americans can be a bit intimidating, especially when their own nation is in question.

Harry has this beautiful boyfriend, though, who is about as American as they come. He’s the grandson of a war vet and the son of a congressman, and in the city of Boston, Massachusetts, pride in America’s history is far from scarce. Harry came here for med school five years ago and now, at the ripe age of 23, is interning at Mass General Hospital with a degree in biomedicine and doesn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. He has everything he needs here; a small apartment in Cambridge, a clear path to a steady career in medicine, and, most importantly, Louis. His life here is far more glamorous than his one back home in England, where he hardly ventured from his small village and barely talked to anyone outside of his, like, three friends. 

With all of this in mind, Harry supposes America has done quite a bit for him so far. It’s given him the life he’s always dreamed of, enough opportunity to last him forever, and so much happiness he thinks it’ll never wear off. But that still doesn’t mean he feels comfortable celebrating Thanksgiving.

“It’s just dinner, Harry! And my family really wants to meet you. Please?” Louis begs again, sitting up again to look into Harry’s eyes pleadingly. They’re cuddled up in Harry’s apartment watching a movie, wrapped up in Harry’s dark gray duvet to fight off the almost-winter chill until his landlord gets his stupid radiator back in order.

“Lou, I’m pretty sure English people really aren’t supposed to celebrate Thanksgiving,” Harry sighs, rolling his eyes when Louis whines and lets his head flop dramatically onto the back of the couch. “Why can’t we just do dinner any other day? Why does it have to be the most American holiday there is?” He asks, exasperated. Louis glares at him and growls in the back of his throat, his signature sign of annoyance. They’ve only been dating about six months, but Harry can read Louis like an open book, knows all of his little expressions and mannerisms.

“ _Because_ ,” Louis hisses, like that’s the only explanation he needs to give. Harry raises his eyebrows, and Louis explodes. 

“Because! Because that’s the only time my whole family will be there and I want you to meet all of them and it’s really important to me and I don’t understand why you’re being such a dick about it,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and falling back against the couch, a few inches between them now.

“Louis,” Harry chuckles, reaching over and pulling Louis back into his side, like they had been sitting a few minutes ago. He snakes his hands up under Louis’ sweater, spreading his fingers over the boy’s warm skin in a way that he knows makes Louis relax. He hesitates a moment and then sighs, dropping his face into Louis’ hair. 

“Fine. I’ll do Thanksgiving.”

Louis squeals with happiness, throwing his arms around Harry’s neck and squeezing him tight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He murmurs, peppering Harry’s face with kisses until Harry laughs and holds him back with a hand on his chest. “It’ll be fun, I swear, and if not you can make me go to England and celebrate one of your weird holidays,” he promises. 

Harry just grins at him for a moment before pulling him back in, tugging him right into his lap. The rest of their movie is forgotten outside of their little cocoon, along with the rest of the world.

*

Harry straightens his shirt in the mirror one more time, making sure his bun is in perfect order and then fussing for a few moments over the one curl that keeps slipping out. He really, _really_ wants Louis’ family to like him, he thinks Louis might be the one, and if he doesn’t look perfect they’re going to hate him, he’s sure of it.

He’s gone with a dark maroon button down with black buttons and black skinny jeans, which tight enough that they look painted on, but not in a trashy way. He’s picked out his best pair of pointed boots and even trimmed his fingernails short enough that they look clean and presentable, in case anyone notices.

There’s a knock on the door as soon as he’s finished tucking his hair back into place, and he lets out a long breath before he goes to answer it. He checks his teeth in the mirror beside the coat closet before he opens the door, finding his smartly dressed boyfriend waiting in the hallway.

They both just kind of stare at each other for a long moment, eyes sweeping over the other’s body for just a bit too long.

Louis has on a cream colored sweater and dark gray jeans, his hair perfectly styled into a windswept fringe. If Harry didn’t know better he would think that Louis took the time to curl his eyelashes, they’re so perfect, but he knows from experience that Louis is just that naturally beautiful.

Harry breaks the silence first, reaching out to pull Louis through the doorway and kiss him softly. “You look gorgeous,” he murmurs against his lips, smiling at him when he pulls away.

“So do you, shit,” Louis breathes, pulling away a bit more so he can look at Harry again in full. “I love when you wear your hair up,” he comments, grinning at the light blush that spreads over Harry’s cheeks.

“I know you do. S’why I did it,” he hums, reaching out to pull Louis in again. Louis resists, though, and Harry pouts as he drops his arms.

“We’re gonna be late if we don’t get going now. Are you ready?” Louis asks, reaching for Harry’s hand when he nods. Harry slides his key into his front pocket and locks the door behind himself before giving Louis his hand, allowing the smaller boy to lead him down the hall to the elevator, and then out to his car. 

They pull up to Louis’ parents house in Charlestown 30 minutes later in Louis’ beat up little Volkswagen, where Louis parks next to the curb and then climbs out of the car. There are already three other cars in the little driveway, and Harry tries to guess who might drive which as Louis leads him up to the front door.

Louis rings the doorbell and Harry squeezes his hand tight, making Louis turn around and look up at him in amusement. 

“Are you nervous?” He asks, plastering himself to Harry’s front with a big grin on his face. Harry wraps his arms around him and holds him like that, returning the smile.

“A little bit. You’ve told me all about them and I know you’ve told them all about me but I’m still a little afraid they’re not going to like me,” he whispers, like they’re not the only ones on the front porch. Louis coos softly and assures him that they’re going to love him, and then the door swings open and whoever is on the other side catches them midway through leaning in for a kiss.

Harry drops his arms and Louis whirls around, grinning at the little girl in the doorway. Harry recognizes her as one of Louis’ little sisters from the countless pictures he’s been shown, but he isn’t sure which one she is.

“Hey, Phoebe,” Louis sings, and the little girl jumps excitedly. She runs the few steps it takes to close the distance and jumps into Louis’ arms, hugging him tight around the neck. Harry’s heart melts as he watches Louis twirl around the porch with her a bit, before putting her down and letting her run back inside.

Louis takes Harry’s hand and leads him inside, just in time to hear Phoebe announce to the whole house that ‘Louis and his pretty boyfriend are here!’Harry smiles at that and Louis looks up at him with the cutest crinkly-eyed grin, leading him around the corner to the kitchen. 

There’s a female Louis with blonde hair sitting on a stool at the bar, with a darker haired version of herself sitting in the stool beside her. Phoebe has doubled and both of them are clawing at a woman who is presumably their mother, trying to get her to stop stuffing the turkey to get a look at Louis’ new boyfriend. There’s an older woman stirring something in a pot on the stove, and another, younger woman sipping from a wine glass and holding another small child. In the attached living room three men sit on the couch watching football, two of them middle aged and one of them about as old as the eldest woman in the kitchen. There’s _another_ small child in the living room, trying very hard to get at one of the bottles of beer on the coffee table. 

Harry is a bit overwhelmed by the chaos of it but Louis holds his hand a little tighter, and it works to calm him down a bit. Louis quietly points out who is who around the kitchen before he actually introduces Harry to any of them, and all of them watch him appraisingly as he’s led around.

He learns that the woman stuffing the turkey really is Louis’ mother, and the other Phoebe is named Daisy. The blonde girl-Louis is named Lottie and the brown haired one is named Fizzy, the older woman is Louis’ gram (“not the one who passed right before we met, that was my nan”) and the woman holding the small child is his aunt Cheryl, and the small child is named Doris. Doris’s twin brother Ernest (“the ‘other twins’, we call them”) is the one trying to make a mess with the beer bottle in the living room, and he is being dutifully unsupervised by Louis’ stepfather, Dan, his uncle James and his grandfather, (“yes, the one that was in the war”).

Cheryl is the one that makes the obligatory joke about there being a test later on who is who, and when Louis’ mother has finally put the turkey in the oven, she turns around to get a good look at Harry.

“So,” she begins, wiping her hands on a tea towel and untying her apron. “You’re the famous Harry that Louis talks endlessly about every time he calls.” Louis glares and makes a motion with his hand in front of his neck that clearly means stop, but Harry just laughs softly and squeezes his hand again.

“Yeah, I guess that’s me,” he grins, and the whole kitchen quiets down a little. Harry feels his stomach drop and Louis flinches, digging his nails into the back of Harry’s hand until someone breaks the silence.

“Lewis,” says his grandfather from the couch, and everyone turns to look at him. “Is that boy British?”

Harry turns to look at Louis, lips parted in surprise. “You didn’t tell them I was _English_?” 

Louis looks like he’s going to defend himself for a moment, but then his grandfather gets up and hobbles into the kitchen and Louis quiets. Harry realizes then that Louis’ grandfather only has one leg, and he remembers Louis telling him at some point that he lost the other one in the war.

“You brought a foreigner into this house on Thanksgiving?” The man asks, standing right in front of them now.

Harry is surprised he hasn’t burst into flames yet, letting go of Louis’ hand and taking a step back, shielding himself behind his boyfriend.

“He’s not a foreigner, Gramp, he’s-”

“He is!” Louis’ grandfather argues, pointing a shaky, crooked finger at Harry. “He’s a _Brit_! How could you bring a Brit to Thanksgiving, do you have any idea what the holiday is about?” 

“It’s about being thankful for your loved ones, Gramp, and I am thankful for-”

“He’s a foreigner!” Louis’ grandfather cries, waving his hand around in the air like he can’t believe what is going on. Harry’s throat feels tight, because this is worse than what he even imagined the worst case scenario to be, but he’s not about to start crying in a kitchen full of Louis’ relatives who are all looking at him like some kind of alien.

“Louis, Harry, why don’t you take the kids outside to play in the leaves a bit before dinner is ready. Dad, I’d like to speak with you in the dining room?” Louis’ mother says, beckoning Louis’ grandfather into the next room.

Louis grabs Harry’s hand and pulls him straight out the back door, collecting both sets of twins on his way and setting them all in the leaves. Harry stands off to the side of the yard, pinching harshly at his own wrist to keep from falling apart.

Louis comes over as soon as he can, reaching for Harry with an apologetic look on his face. Harry opens his mouth before Louis can, though, spitting out the words that are probably on everyone else’s mind right now.

“I should leave,” he says, taking a step back when Louis reaches for him again. “They hate me, Louis. I knew I shouldn’t have come in the first place. I’ll call a cab home,” he mutters, turning away and reaching into his pocket for his phone.

“Harry,” Louis argues, grabbing the phone out of his hand and tossing it carelessly into the grass behind himself. Harry groans, turning back around and trying to get around Louis to get to it.

“Louis, that is an iPhone 6, you cannot throw it like that,” he scolds, but Louis doesn’t seem to care. He grabs Harry’s face and kisses him hard, not letting him pull away until Harry is pliant and calm.

“You’re not leaving,” Louis says, keeping barely an inch between their noses while he talks, still holding onto Harry’s cheeks. “They don’t hate you, not at all. They haven’t even gotten to know you yet, and they’re absolutely not going to hate you because you’re British, of all things. Gramp is just a little crazy, but he’ll get over it, I swear,” he assures, finally letting Harry go once it’s all out of his mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell them I was English in the first place, if you talk about me to your mom so much? Kind of a defining feature, I would think,” he grumbles, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. Louis looks like he’s been caught, clasping his hands together behind his back.

“Uh, it didn’t come up in conversation?” He tries, looking up at Harry from under his bangs. Harry rolls his eyes, taking another step back.

“Did it have to?” He asks, voice dripping with annoyance.

Louis finally sighs, rolling his eyes and running his hand through his hair. “Alright, my biological dad was English. He skipped out on my mom a month after I was born. I didn’t tell them you were English because I knew that if I did my mom would wanna talk about my dad, and I didn’t want to hear it and I didn’t want to make her talk about it. I’m sorry, I should’ve told her,” he admits, shoulders slumping slightly. “I didn’t think any of them would react like this. Obviously I don’t remember the guy, but they all do, so it’s probably just a little shocking.”

Harry takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, letting that all sink in. He can see why Louis’ family might be a little resentful, because Louis’ mom seems like a wonderful person and anyone that hurt her must be really awful. He still feels weird about going back in there and acting like none of that happened, though, because it did and he feels like he just shouldn’t be here.

“I’m sorry that happened,” he says softly, reaching out to squeeze Louis’ hand. Louis looks up at him hopefully, trying to lace their fingers together. “But I should still leave. I can tell they’re not going to want me here,” he says, dropping Louis’ hand.

“Harry,” Louis groans, scrambling to grab his hand again but latching onto his arm instead when he can’t get a hold of his fingers. “They don’t even know you yet. Apparently my biological dad was a dick the whole time, but you’re not. They’re going to love you after about five minutes, just like I did, I promise. C’mon, just try? If you still want to leave in an hour, you can, and you don’t have to talk to me ever again. But just come back inside, please,” he begs, tugging on Harry’s arm again. 

Harry sighs loudly but relents, nodding his head tiredly and letting Louis hug him. He scoops his phone up out of the grass where Louis tossed it and then picks up one of the younger twins while Louis gets the other, bringing all of the kids back inside.

Everyone looks down when they walk in, the kids running off to the next room and leaving the kitchen in relative silence. Harry wishes they had stayed outside longer, toeing nervously at the floor and holding onto his own elbows behind his back. Louis’ grandfather is back in his place on the couch but he doesn’t look happy, determinedly not looking at Harry as he walks in.

“Harry,” Louis’ mother says softly and Harry freezes, looking up at her like a deer in the headlights. He can only imagine that she’s about to kindly ask him to leave and he’s going to have to move back to England just to get away from the shame of all of this, cowering a little as she comes closer. “Oh, you poor thing, what a terrible impression we’ve made on you. Look,” she says, taking his arm gently and pulling him off to the side, out of earshot of everyone else. He looks at Louis nervously but Louis just gives him a little smile, encouraging him to go on.

“I’m not sure if Louis has told you about my first husband, his biological father, but he spoke with an accent just like yours. He was terrible, I’m not sure why I ever loved him, but I did. My father, Louis’ Gramp, hated him from the very first second, and he’s never been a very accepting person to begin with. I’m so sorry about what he said to you, and I want you to know that you are always welcome inside this house, because you obviously make Louis very happy, and that makes me very happy. I would be thrilled if you could try and forget about what happened earlier and still stay for dinner? Gramp has been put in his place, I promise,” she says, giving Harry a smile that looks so much like Louis’ that it eases him just the same.

He releases the breath he was holding and lets himself smile, nodding quickly. “Of course I’ll stay, thank you. That was all very kind of you to say. And I didn’t really get to say earlier, but you have a lovely home and I’m honored to be spending my first Thanksgiving here,” he says, giving Louis’ mother his most genuine smile.

“Oh Louis,” his mother swoons, turning to look at her son and patting Harry on the chest. “This one’s a keeper. I approve. Now go set the table please, I’d like to get to know Harry a bit better,” she says, raising an eyebrow in Louis’ direction and waving him off. Louis grabs Harry by the elbow and drags him into the corner, smiling up at him.

“See? Told you she’d love you. I think I said within five minutes though, which was clearly wrong, because that was about thirty seconds,” he sighs, looking at his imaginary wristwatch. Harry chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around Louis and holding him close. 

“You were right, and I’m sorry I wanted to leave. I can’t wait to get to know your family,” he says quietly, talking right into Louis’ ear. “And since Thanksgiving is all about being thankful, I’d be quite chuffed if you would come back to mine tonight for a bit of foolery?” He hums.

“You just went full English on me,” Louis moans, sagging against his chest a bit like he can’t even hold himself up. “And I fucking loved it. You don’t even have to talk dirty to me, just read me a cookbook in that voice and I’ll come in my pants before you get past the ingredients,” he breathes.

Harry lets out one of his loud horse laughs and lets Louis go, smiling down at him fondly. Louis grabs a stack of plates off the kitchen counter and winks in his direction before disappearing to set the dining table, leaving Harry to follow Jay around and try to help with dinner, even when she keeps batting him away because he absolutely does not need to help, apparently.

So he gets to work charming himself into the heart of every member of Louis’ family, aside from his grandfather of course, even letting the older set of twins take out his bun and braid his hair for almost half an hour. Louis finishes setting the table and then comes to sit in the kitchen and just watch, obviously endeared by how well Harry seems to be getting along with his family. Before dinner is even served he has all of Louis’ sisters and his brother wrapped around his little finger, along with Louis’ mother, grandmother, and aunt. 

He still helps Jay with as much of the cooking as she allows, because he really is quite good at it, and then discusses variations of pie recipes with his aunt Cheryl until Louis literally begs him to stop so he can go show him his childhood bedroom and his old, complete collection of Red Sox baseball cards.

During dinner, he’s able to shock Louis’ stepdad and uncle with his knowledge and understanding of the game of American football, and after dinner he’s able to prove it when they all crowd into the living room to watch the game. Harry turns out to be as loud and passionate about the game as the rest of the men, even with Louis firmly planted in his side and Doris seated on his thigh, because for some reason she cannot get enough of him.

Even Louis’ grandfather stops glaring at Harry after a little while, apparently deciding he’s not as bad as he originally thought. He even compliments Harry on his taste in pie when dessert is served, after they both go for the same piece of Cheryl’s famous cherry pie.

After dessert is over and the youngest of the children are already in bed, Louis finally convinces Harry to say goodbye to everyone so they can go back to Harry’s apartment like he promised earlier. Both of them are too full and sleepy from the turkey to do much more than kiss for a while under Harry’s sheets, until they’re both practically falling asleep.

“I told you my family would adore you,” Louis hums when he finally pulls away, digging his face into Harry’s neck and curling up mostly on top of him.

“Aside from your Gramp,” Harry sighs, wrapping his arms around Louis and holding him close while he closes his eyes, settling down.

“Are you kidding? Even he warmed up to you by the end of the night. Everyone loves you. But I love you the most,” Louis promises, clearly already drifting off to sleep.

Harry smiles to himself and waits for Louis’ breathing to even out completely, rubbing his back gently and watching his eyelashes flutter. 

“I love you too,” he whispers softly, leaving a ghost of a kiss in Louis’ hair before letting himself drift off to sleep as well.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments and kudos are always appreciated :) the rebloggable post is [here](http://fukcinglouis.tumblr.com/post/128817368253/hope-your-heart-is-strong-enough-by-suspendrs-4k)


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